A Night in Dragonblight
by QuietToAFault
Summary: A night elf huntress and a troll hunter form an unlikely relationship. Rated M for sexual content.


AN: Hello, friends. This is my first fanfic, so I hope any reviews will be kind and constructive.  
Please be advised that this story contains smut. Read at your own risk.  
I do not own World of Warcraft.

"Hush now, Anta'nar. I cannot help you if you keep squirming." The night elf huntress crooned softly to her companion as she examined the extent of his injuries. The white striped saber huffed and yowled as her gentle fingers checked every bone and joint with brisk efficiency, her brow furrowed. "My friend, I am afraid you have a broken leg," she murmured at last, sitting back on her heels. "Perhaps next time you shall stop a moment and think before pouncing on a frostwyrm, no matter how small it is."

Her pet gazed up at her balefully, his leg stretched out at an awkward angle, as if to say "Can't you skip the lecture and just heal me already?"

The huntress grimaced. Although she was quite adept at marksmanship, tracking, trapping, survivalism, and a number of other skills besides, healing animals had always been her one great failing. She could no more heal him than she could turn into an elekk. "I left most of the healing supplies back at our camp. I shall have to splint your leg and carry you, I suppose." The reproachful look her pet gave her would have made her smile, had she not been worried about him. "We were both careless today, Anta'nar. Do not give me that look."

With as much gentleness as possible, the huntress set about splinting the saber's leg. Though most folk called him her pet, he wasn't really - he was more of a partner and a protector. Years before, when he was but a kitten, he had sat himself in her lap and remained there until she agreed to take him. Since then, he had saved her life many times, and she had saved his. They worked together like a perfectly oiled machine; at least, until something like this happened. She sighed as she finished the ties on the splint. Sometimes, his feral nature took over and he just had to chase something, or someone.

"Now comes the tricky part," she said at last. After ensuring her bow and quiver were strapped securely to her back and her hunting knife was in its sheath at her belt, she scooped the saber up and cradled him in her arms like a large, furry, newborn babe. "My friend, you have gained weight," she grunted between clenched teeth. He glared up at her reproachfully, as if to say "It's all muscle!" The huntress gave a breathy laugh. "Of course, Anta'nar. Please try and keep still, I would hate to drop you."

She took a step, and then another, and then a third. Their progress was agonizingly slow, but steady. It was better than leaving him alone to fetch her mount, she told herself silently. He wouldn't be able to defend himself with a broken leg. Still, they made quite a sight. The huntress, named Moriene, was a tall, lithe night elf with long white hair kept in a neat, if not severe, braid. Her light purple skin was accented only by darker purple marks around her eyes in the shape of leaves. The rest of her body was concealed in well-kept mail armor and a heavy fur cloak. She almost regretted all of the armor just then because it was taking most of her strength just to carry her companion. Still, no matter how soaked with sweat she was getting underneath it all, it had still saved her from serious injury from the wyrm's deadly claws.

And as they trudged through the snows of the Dragonblight, leaving behind them the smoldering corpse of the frostwyrm, they had no way of knowing that they were being watched and followed.

-

Not even halfway back to their camp, Moriene felt herself growing weary. Between her mildly heavy armor, a hard day of hunting and fighting, and now having to carry her companion, her strength and energy were almost spent. Her arms trembled with the effort of supporting her companion who had thus far remained almost perfectly still, much to her surprise. Normally he refused to be coddled and pampered; now he lay perfectly still in her arms, ears up and alert. It was almost like he were listening for something.

The hairs on the back of Moriene's neck prickled. She sensed it now, too. They were being followed and were in no condition to fight. Still, she had never been one to surrender. Some called it pride, she called it survivalism. Careful not to upset his leg, the huntress gently lowered her companion onto the ground. He lay on his side lazily as she loosened the muscles in her arms, wincing at how weak she felt. A small part of her hoped their pursuer was friendly, but a larger part of her knew that was foolish. Northrend was full of enemies, ranging from the mindless denizens of the Scourge to dragons and even giants. It was also possible her pursuer was a member of the Horde coming to fight her in her weakened state. They would be foolish, she thought bitterly. The Alliance and the Horde needed all their combined strength to defeat Arthas. What good would it do to kill off a huntress and her wounded pet?

The sound of crunching snow behind her, deliberately loud, sent her into action. In one fluid motion she crouched, turned, and aimed her bow at the source of the noise. There, a stone's throw away from her, stood a troll, his three-fingered hands held up to show he was unarmed. The huntress's eyes narrowed. What trickery was this?

"State your business, or leave!" she called in Common, hoping he would understand her. She knew some Orcish, but she had been told her accent was atrocious. If nothing else, perhaps he would understand her tone.

Instead of leaving, the troll stood his ground. He eyed her with what looked like...curiosity? Though doubtless he was well over seven feet tall, he stood a bit stooped so that they were at eye level with one another. He had blue skin, a long, straight nose, and long white tusks that extended even past his nose. His red hair flared out in a glorious mohawk littered with beaded braids. Red eyes gazed at her from under heavy brows, looking almost like warm coals set deep in his skull. His face was peppered with small scars, and undoubtedly he had more scattered across his body, but they were hidden by his mail armor. From what Moriene knew of trolls, they were completely vicious...but then why was this one just...looking at her?

"Well?" she asked after a long silence. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her bow drawn like this, as weak as she was.

"Ya pet be hurt," he said finally in a deep, accented voice.

"I know that," she replied tersely. "Why does that concern you?"

He blinked at her slowly. Movement behind him caught her eye and she noticed a large feline seated several yards behind him. It watched her warily, its muscles tense. Was it his pet? Was he a fellow hunter, and had he commanded his pet to stay back so as not to threaten her? She also noticed a crossbow at the cat's feet, along with a quiver and a set of wicked-looking daggers. Her eyes flicked back to the troll, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. "I be t'inkin' ya be wantin' help. But, if ya don', I be leavin'."

As he turned to leave, Moriene bit her lip and carefully lowered her bow, relaxing the string. There was no way she could carry her companion any further, and he certainly couldn't walk on a broken leg. The troll had taken care to disarm himself and put himself in potential danger just to offer his help. Even if they were from opposing factions, could she really be picky?

"Wait," she called tiredly. "As it happens, I do need help."

Halfway between her and his pet, the troll paused and looked back at her over his shoulder. "Ya not gonna shoot me, are ya?"

"No." As if to prove it, she returned her arrow to her quiver and put away her bow. That done, she held up her hands as he had done, showing they were empty. "If you will help my companion here, I swear I will not harm you."

Accepting this, the troll turned and ambled slowly towards her. Though the logical part of her brain knew he was going to help her, pure habit and the primal, survivalistic part of her brain screamed at her to arm herself, to repel the troll that approached her. By sheer force of will, she quieted the urge and watched him with sharp eyes instead. He crouched by her companion, feeling the saber's body over with as much gentleness as she had earlier. Though his fingers were large and rough, he was still incredibly tender with the animal. Moriene couldn't help but admire that about him and wondered how long it had taken him to perfect that skill. Her companion seemed about as relaxed as he could be with how much pain he was in. Apparently, he had not sensed any danger from the troll which was why he hadn't alerted her to his presence earlier.

"He be needin' lots o' healin'," the troll said at last. "Broken bone, torn muscle, an' a lot o' pain. Be ya camp far?"

"A bit," Moriene replied tiredly. "In a cave to the east of here."

The troll nodded. "I be gettin' my gear an' we be goin'. He be needin' ta rest after I be finished." He hesitated and glanced at her, as if waiting for her permission. She nodded once, and he ambled back to his pet. Soon, he was back, cat at his heels and weapons on his back. Stooping low, he scooped her companion up and cradled him as if he weighed nothing at all. The huntress had to admire the muscles that bulged under his armor, muscles that could kill her as easily as they lifted her companion. The troll noticed her staring at him and raised an eyebrow. "Ya be needin' ta lead de way," he reminded her, a touch of humor in his voice.

Without a word, Moriene turned and started off in the direction of her camp. He followed at a respectful distance, his pet even further back. Apparently, the feline still didn't know what to make of the strange female. It watched her intently as if daring her to make a wrong move so it could pounce.

"Dat be Pounce," the troll said after noticing her eyeing his pet. "Dat be her fav'rite t'ing ta do. An' I be Zul'antok."

"I am Moriene, and that is Anta'nar," the huntress replied politely. "We appreciate your help, truly. We would not have made it back on our own."

"Moriene," the troll said slowly, as if testing her name on his lips. The way her name sounded with his accent sent a strange shiver down her spine. "I be happy ta help. I be hatin' ta see animals in pain, even if dey be part o' de enemy." He flashed her a strange grin.

The she-elf sniffed quietly. "We are hardly enemies here, Zul'antok," she retorted, his name sounding awkward coming from her mouth. "The Lich King is the enemy of all living beings. I think we can agree to be allies against him and his Scourge."

The troll bowed his head in agreement. "Aye, dat be true," he grumbled. "I be forgettin' dese strange times we be livin' in."

"Yes, strange times indeed when a troll would sooner help a Kaldorei than kill her." Their eyes met in a long, tense moment, broken suddenly by a tentative smile from each of them. Moriene looked away first, feeling suddenly very warm even in the chill air of Dragonblight.

-

They arrived at her camp some time later, having spent most of the trip in heavy, awkward silence. Moriene's mount, an armored gryphon named Justice, paced at the mouth of the cave that served as her shelter, clearly agitated that she hadn't come back sooner. It took many soothing words and neck rubs to get him to calm down enough to let the troll and his passenger inside. Once Justice was sufficiently pacified and fed, the huntress made her way into the cave to find her companion on her bed roll with the troll bent over him. He had his hands pressed gently onto the saber's side, his eyes closed in concentration. Leaving him to his work, Moriene set about getting a fire going. Once that was done, she retrieved a cooking pot from her packs and hung it over the fire, laden with broth, noodles, and vegetables she had cut up earlier. She stirred the soup occasionally, her eyes ever flicking between the pot and the troll.

Just as the soup started to bubble, the troll stood and stretched. "He be fine after he be restin'," he declared, then took several gulps from a water skin he had pulled from his lone pack.

"Thank you," Moriene said sincerely. "Will you stay for dinner? It is the least I can do to repay you for helping my friend."

The troll eyed the soup hungrily. "Aye, dat be much appreciated."

While the huntress ladled out soup for the two of them, the troll produced bread to go along with it, and a large flask of what smelled like strong liquor. "Dey call it Kungaloosh," the troll explained with a grin. "It helps ta keep ya warm."

Though hesitant, the huntress tried a sip to be polite. It seemed pleasant enough at first, but the bite hit hard. Grimacing, she passed the flask back to the troll and gulped some soup to purge her mouth of the taste. "It is...unique," she said finally, having recovered somewhat.

The troll chuckled. "Ya might be changin' ya mind once de sun goes down. It be gettin' mighty cold."

Despite its awful taste, the Kungaloosh did put a warm glow in her belly, even with the tiny amount she had tried. Moriene supposed that, so long as she took small sips, it wouldn't be so bad. While they ate and passed the flask back and forth, the two hunters shared stories from their respective cultures and of their talked until the fired burned down to embers and the world had gone dark outside. While Moriene built the fire back up, she was telling him about how she had met her companion.

"...and since we have been together, he has always been very protective of me. His name means "uncle" in my native tongue." She glanced over at her companion, who still slept soundly on her bed roll. "I suppose he sensed you meant to help us, which was why he did not tell me you were there."

"De beasts be smarter den people t'ink," the troll replied, feeding some dried meat to his own companion, Pounce. That, at least, they had in common: their mutual love and respect for animals. She watched as he scratched Pounce behind the ears, his eyes tender as he gazed at his pet. Perhaps trolls were not entirely vicious as she was led to believe, she thought. Of course, they were still dangerous, and there were many that were truly vicious. But some, like Zul'antok, could be gentle and kind when they wanted to. Though, if the situation had been different, and if there wasn't a war on a common enemy, she suspected he might not have been so merciful.

As if sensing her gaze on him, the troll looked up and locked eyes with her. Silently, he offered her the flask of Kungaloosh, already mostly empty from their dinner. Moriene accepted it, mind racing. Was he thinking the same things as her? Was he regretting his help? Would he leave during the night, or worse, betray her? She took a swallow of the liquor, eyes never leaving his, and returned the flask. They passed it back and forth in silence until the Kungaloosh was gone and the fire in their bellies kept them sufficiently warm.

When the troll moved to stand, Moriene tensed. He hesitated, watching her warily. They stared at each other in silence for several tense moments before the troll sighed. "I swear ta all de Gods, I not be hurtin' ya. Ya fed dis poor, 'ungry troll an' shared de Kungaloosh, an' I healed ya friend. T'night, we be friends."

It took a moment for the huntress's mind to process this, the Kungaloosh inhibiting her some. "Alright," she agreed finally. She glanced over at her bed roll regretfully, seeing her friend still soundly asleep. Resigned to sleeping under her cloak, she stood and moved towards the back of the cave.

"Ya can be usin' my bed," the troll offered, handing her his wrapped bed roll.

Moriene hesitated only a moment before accepting the bundle. "What about you?" she asked quietly. She set the bed roll up by her own so she could check on her friend during the night.

"I be used ta sleepin' in caves," the troll replied nonchalantly. "I be takin' off my armor, if ya wan' ta look away."

Noting with a blush that he didn't tell her she had to look away, Moriene turned her back to him and stripped off her own armor. Underneath the mail, she wore simple leather pants and a soft woolen shirt. They were comfortable enough to sleep in, but not much protection against the cold. Shivering, she quickly climbed into the bed roll and wrapped herself up tight. Closer to the fire, she noticed the troll sat with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him. His cloak was wrapped around his torso for warmth. Like her, he wore thin, comfortable clothes under his armor.

The huntress frowned as she watched him try to get comfortable. Surely he would get cold during the night, and he hadn't needed to give his bed roll to her as he had. But why? She pondered this as she tried to identify the different scents in the bed roll: wood smoke, pine trees, leather, and something musky and strangely exciting. It made her shiver, and not from the cold. She peeked her eyes open in time to see the troll shiver by the fire, though his was from the cold.

"Zul'antok," she said before her nerve failed her. "There is room in here for the both of us, if you want. Just mind you keep to your side."

The troll looked over at her for a long moment before he moved to join her. Moving to the side closest to Anta'nar, the huntress opened the blankets just enough to allow him to slide in. The bed roll had been spacious enough when she was on her own, but with both of them wrapped up in its heavy blankets it suddenly seemed cramped. To give her some space, the big troll lay on his side with his back to her. That, at least, made her feel a little better. After that, it wasn't long until weariness from the day's exploits settled over her, making her drift off to sleep.

-

In her dream, she lay in her bed back in her room in Darnassus. It was so warm and comfortable that she thought she may never leave, and the smell was absolutely divine. It was a heady, musky scent that bespoke of male dominance and virility. Normally, such things hardly mattered to her, but how long had it been since her last tumble with a man? Decades, at least; and her last encounter had left her unsatisfied and disappointed. She was due, she thought.

She realized she gripped a pillow between her legs and was rubbing herself against it slowly. It wasn't as satisfying as a man's touch, but it still felt good enough to keep going. Her steady pace continued until she trembled and panted, her body aching for release.

Suddenly, she was awake. Her face was buried in something warm and delicious-smelling, her fingers entangled in the soft fabric. Her eyes fluttered open to discover she was using the troll's chest as a pillow, and he was awake. He glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Horrified, Moriene realized the "pillow" she had been rubbing against was actually his leg, and he had been awake!

Blushing a deep purple, the huntress pulled away from him and cleared her throat. "My apologies," she murmured. "I...I am not sure what came over me."

Zul'antok grinned at her crookedly. "I not be mindin'," he responded wickedly. "Ya jus' be gettin' ta de good part when ya be wakin' up."

The huntress's blush deepened. Her heart was pounding in her chest as if she had just run several miles. How was it that this troll could affect her this way? They were enemies! And yet, he had helped her, had helped Anta'nar. They had talked late into the night, losing track of time and simply enjoying each other's company. And, they had shared a bed. Granted, nothing had happened (besides her dream, she thought with another blush), but there was no doubt now that she wanted something to happen. Judging by the hungry look in his eyes, he wanted it, too. But somehow, she knew he wouldn't be the one to initiate. It would have to be her.

Steeling herself, she climbed onto him and straddled his hips in one smooth motion and sat with her hands splayed across his chest. Their eyes locked for one breathless moment, and then they were kissing. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close and steadying her atop him. Moriene's last coherent thought was of how convenient it was that his tusks fit snugly at either side of her head, and her mind went pleasantly blank as his tongue flicked out to meet hers.

As they kissed, her hands explored his torso until she found the buttons on his shirt. Within seconds, she had the shirt open and his chest bared to the chill air, and to her. Regretfully, she pulled away from the kiss and sat back to admire him. He was certainly well-muscled and peppered with scars, as she had guessed. Her fingertips traced his scars lightly, feeling each one and simply admiring him. There was no doubt he had proven himself as a skilled fighter time and again.

Feeling his hands on her hips, she returned to the task at hand. Deliberately slow, she unbuttoned her shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He watched with anticipation as she removed the garment and exposed most of her torso to him. All that remained was her breast band. Before she had a chance to remove it, he rolled them over so that he was on top. The huntress barely had time to gasp before he claimed her lips once more, kissing her hungrily. His calloused hands took their time exploring her sides, her belly, her back, until coming to rest at the clasp of her breast band. Deftly, he unclasped the garment but did not remove it, not yet.

His lips left hers and kissed a trail down her chin, her neck, and her chest until they came to the edge of her breast band. With agonizing slowness, he edged the band away and kissed her breasts as they became exposed, pausing just before he reached her sensitive and very erect nipples. He looked up at her, as if asking for permission to continue. Moriene swallowed and nodded. Wasting no more time, he tossed the band aside and took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud in quick motions. One arm circled around her waist, almost possessively, while his other hand squeezed her unoccupied breast gently. His broad thumb circled and teased her nipple, making her gasp and tremble under him. Then, when his teeth grazed her nipple, her eyes rolled back and she moaned.

Zul'antok growled deep in his throat and pulled away, making her whimper softly in protest. But he was only gone long enough to shrug off his shirt, then he was kissing her lips once more. Their bare torsos pressed together, sending electricity through both of them and making her crave more. She wanted to feel all of him bare and against her, inside her. Her growing need felt like a dull, hungering ache between her legs, and she could feel his own need pressing into her thigh. He wanted, needed her just as badly as she did him.

One of her hands got tangled in his mohawk as she kissed him, and her other hand trailed down towards the waistband of his pants. Her fingertips brushed over the bulge in his pants teasingly, earning her another growl. When she found the laces, she made quick work of untying and pushing them down as far as he could reach. He pulled away long enough to kick his pants off the rest of the way, baring himself completely to her. Her breath caught as she admired him in all his glory, especially the part of him that stood erect. He leaned down to kiss her again, and as his lips caught hers, her hand caught his manhood. She stroked him gently, feeling with some apprehension how large he was. He was bigger than any man she'd ever had!

"Dis be hardly fair," he growled to her as he throbbed in her grasp. He sat up on his knees and went to remove her pants, hesitating only to say, "Be stoppin' me now if ya want ta stop."

"No," Moriene gasped. "Do not stop. Not ever."

That was all the encouragement the troll needed. Within seconds, he had her just as bare as he, and he took a moment to admire her. At some point, her braid had come undone, causing her hair to pool around her like a halo of moonlight. He leaned in to kiss her again, whispering "Ya be beautiful, Moriene." Hearing her name come from him sent another shiver of delight down her spine as they kissed, nude bodies pressed together, her fingers twining through his hair.

His hand traveled down her body, dipping ever lower until he came to her sex. He felt how ready she was and chuckled into their kiss. Her thighs parted willingly for him, urging him on. Instead of getting straight to business, he took his time exploring her with his fingers. Gently, he eased one finger into her, inch by inch, letting her adjust to the intrusion as he went. His fingers alone were as large as any of the men she had been with. As he probed deeper, she arched against him and moaned into their kiss. His thumb found her sensitive bud and circled it as his finger moved in her, making her writhe and buck her hips in desperation. All she knew was her need for release, her need for him to make her shatter in exquisite pleasure.

Soon, too soon, she felt herself hovering near the edge of her completion. He kept up the slow, steady rhythm, his lips never leaving hers. Just when she thought she might go insane, the huntress finally went tumbling over the edge and plummeted into the depths of satisfaction as she exploded around his gentle finger, her body a writhing, mindless wreck beneath him. He kept her there as long as he could, stopping only when she finally fell limp. He held her tenderly, giving her time to recover by kissing her neck as she panted for breath.

When she could focus again, Moriene gazed up at the troll with a greater appreciation. She had expected to tumble with him once and be done, but instead he had assured her satisfaction before they even began! The heat in her belly spread, making her want him all over again. Realizing her fingers were still tangled in his hair, she pulled him down to kiss her again. He made no move to join with her and she sighed inwardly. Her need was too great for him to be a gentleman. Releasing a hand from his crimson locks, she gently gripped his manhood and guided him to her entrance. Needing no further encouragement, he pressed against her and growled into their kiss.

He was just as patient as he was with his finger, but she could tell he was barely maintaining control. He eased in, inch after inch, withdrawing each time and returning so she could stretch to accommodate him. Finally, whether he ran out of length or she of depth, they were joined completely, mind, body, and soul. It didn't matter just then that she was a night elf and he a troll, that she was from the Alliance and he was from the Horde. He was a man, and she was a woman, and they brought each other the most divine pleasure in all of Azeroth.

Their bodies moved together, his thrusting and hers writhing, clawing, arching. Through it all, they kissed each other hungrily, as if that kiss were all that was keeping them alive. Their fiery passion burned brighter as they got closer and closer to completion, threatening to consume them completely. They found themselves hovering at the precipice, poised to tumble off together. He moved as if to pull away from her, but her legs wrapped around him and firmly held him in place. All logic and reason was gone; all that remained was her need to be one with him. Growling possessively, the troll's thrusts became hard, fast, and demanding. Obediently, the huntress arched under him, accepting him fully and so close to her climax. Seconds later, they shattered together; she around him and he within her. Moriene had no notion how long it lasted, or how long they lay there, simply holding each other. When she finally came to her senses, she lay beside him, using his chest as a pillow once more.

The huntress looked up at the troll sleepily. His eyes were closed, but judging by the rhythm of his breathing, she guessed he was awake. "Zul'antok?" she asked quietly.

He peeked an eye open and looked down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in a small smirk. "Ya be awake? I be t'inkin' ya be passin' out."

Moriene returned his smirk. "It would take more than that to knock me out, Master Troll." He simply chuckled and held her closer.

-

About an hour later, they were just finishing breakfast when they heard the howl of wind outside. Glancing out, they saw the beginnings of a blizzard. Justice the gryphon huffed and settled himself at the mouth of the cave, resigned to waiting for the storm to pass. Moriene locked eyes with the troll, a small frown forming. "I hope you were not needed anywhere."

The troll shrugged a shoulder. "If dey be askin' ol' Zul'antok questions, I be sayin' a vicious night elf be kidnappin' me an holdin' me hostage."

Moriene raised her eyebrows at him. Not only was he taller than her, but he also outweighed her considerably and was stronger. Granted, she could hold her own in a fight against him, but she doubted she could hold him hostage very long, if at all. Still, she couldn't help but smile as he smirked at her. "Some captor I am, letting you roam about freely. Whatever shall I do with you?"

"What ya wantin' ta do?" he asked wickedly, his eyes roaming freely over her body. She had put her light clothes back on for breakfast because it was cold even in their little cave, but now it felt like too much clothing. Wordlessly, she rose and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He played along, resisting only a little as she led him back to their bed rolls. Anta'nar had gotten up and left to sit with Justice and Pounce, all of them tactfully ignoring their strange owners.

With a push, Moriene had him laying back across their bed rolls. In another moment, she had him naked again. "I must ensure you have no weapons," she teased, running her hands down his chest. He growled low in his throat in that dominant, possessive way that made her quiver with excitement. Not wanting their game to be over so soon, she bared her fangs at him in a challenge. Baring his teeth in return, he pounced.

They wrestled, each trying to pin the other. While he had the advantage in size and strength, she was faster and had a better reaction time. Though she lost her clothes in the process, she managed to pin him beneath her. The feral part of her had taken over and demanded that she claim him and prove her dominance. Finding him already erect, she positioned herself over him took him inside her once more, moaning softly. He moved as if to flip them over, but she forced him back down, grabbing him by the tusks to hold him in place while she rode him. Baring his teeth, he brought his hips up to meet her, driving himself deep within her. Moriene trembled with delight as he rubbed against all of her most sensitive spots with each purposeful thrust.

Her grip loosened on his tusks, and he took advantage of her lapse to flip them over and pin her down. Her arms were pinned over her head, her legs spread apart by his. His teeth clamped gently over her throat, not breaking the skin, but threatening nonetheless. His familiar low growl rumbled in his chest, his message abundantly clear: submit, or else.

Moriene had no choice. Completely prone beneath him, she submitted. He had bested her and proven his dominance. With another growl, he started a rough pace, making her arch and gasp with pleasure. They wouldn't last long at this pace, she knew, but this wasn't meant to last long. It was meant to claim, to assert dominance, to establish something between them. What that was, she wasn't yet sure. She just knew he was dominating her, and she loved it.

When they peaked together, she felt his mouth clamp a bit tighter over her throat, growling all the while. Moriene's eyes rolled back in her head, her cries of pleasure echoing throughout the cave. There was no doubt about it now: she was his, and she didn't care who heard.

At last, he released her throat and gingerly climbed off of her. They were both marked from their battle: Zul'antok had a handful of bruises and scratches down his back, and Moriene had shallow bite marks on her throat. The troll ran his fingers over the marks with a gentle finger. "Maybe I bein' too rough," he rumbled.

The huntress propped herself up on her elbows and looked over at him, eyebrows raised. "You had to be, otherwise I would have won."

The troll's eyes glittered mischievously. "Dat be soundin' like a challenge. Be ya challengin' me already?"

"Perhaps," the huntress said with a wicked smile.

Before she knew what was happening, he had her pinned again. Her hands were tied together with her shirt and pinned between her and the floor. The troll teased her sex until she was ready and trembling once more.

"Tell me what ya want," he growled into her ear.

"You," she gasped, arching into him.

"Say it." His eyes stared into hers, demanding her full obedience.

"I want you inside me," she panted.

"Beg." His finger continued its purposeful teasing, working her up but not offering any satisfaction.

"Please," she gasped. "I want you inside me! I…" She moaned and lapsed into Orcish. "Fuck me, damn it! I'm yours, just fuck me!"

Zul'antok's eyes widened minutely at her lapse into Orcish, but he quickly recovered with a grin. "Ya should be stayin' wit' Common," he remarked, positioning himself at her entrance. "Say it again. Whose are ya?"

"Yours," she gasped in Common, feeling him resting against her eager sex. "I am yours. Please…" Her gasps became moans as he pressed into her, claiming her again in one solid thrust. He took his time, keeping a slow pace as he enjoyed her body. He suckled each breast, kissed neck, her face, her lips. He relished in watching her writhe beneath him, unable to disentangle her arms from her shirt.

When he felt her getting close, he kissed his way over to one of her long, slender ears. "Come fo' me," he growled. That was all she needed to push her over the edge. That time, he did not follow her immediately; instead, he waited for her trembling to cease before he started his slow, deliberate pace once more.

-

Moriene lost track of time, and lost track of how many times she and the troll bedded each other. Their tumbles ranged from rough and needful to soft and tender, but now they were both too sore to continue any longer. Instead, they simply held one another and watched the dying blizzard outside. After a long, comfortable silence, she looked up at him. "Zul'antok," she began tentatively. "Do you suppose we shall see one another again?" The question seemed childish to her, but she had to know what he was thinking.

The troll considered a moment before responding. "I don' know," he replied honestly.

The huntress nodded. They lived in uncertain times. Who knew if they would even survive the war? "If fate smiles on us, I should like to," she murmured.

"Aye," he agreed softly.

Moriene sighed and rested her head against his chest. She didn't dare mention feelings, not yet. Over four hundred years had taught her not to rush into things, especially with one who would live only a fraction as long as she.

Later, as they were packing up to leave, Zul'antok stopped her as she loaded her packs onto Justice. "Here." He handed her one of his crimson braids with carved beads. "So ya don' be forgettin' me."

The huntress smiled and cut off a lock of her own hair, braiding it into a ring he could wear around one of his thick fingers. "And so you may not forget me," she said as she slipped it onto him.

"Never," he murmured, leaning down for a kiss.

Moriene tried very hard not to look back as she headed north. She was afraid that, if she looked back and saw him, she would be tempted to go after him and never leave. For now, at least, that was impossible. They both had their responsibilities and the war to attend to. Pausing a moment, she looked down at the small braid still clutched in her hand. Unable to resist any longer, she looked back over the snowy landscape. At first, she didn't see anything. Then, off in the distance, she thought she saw a tall figure with a smaller, feline one. A sad smile tugged at her lips. Though they only spent one night and most of that day together, she felt closer to him than to any other man she had ever been with. They had made some sort of bond that would never break, even if they were separated by time and distance.

"Stop looking at me like that, Anta'nar," she told her companion, who had been eyeing her ruefully. "We shall be alright."


End file.
